


Never Throw Out Anybody

by Lilyauden



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Acceptance, Angst, Curiosity, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Healing, Memories, Trust
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 21:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilyauden/pseuds/Lilyauden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the journey back to Willoughby, Charlie and Monroe are forced to work together to get back home, and along the way, Charlie finds herself beginning to understand and, dare she say it, trust the man she once vowed to kill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Learning to Work Together

**Author's Note:**

> The title was inspired by a quote I read once that said, "People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed and redeemed and redeemed and redeemed. Never throw out anybody."  
> Another one that inspired me was this quote from Marvin J Anderson, "If we could look into each other's hearts and understand the unique challenges that each of us faces, I think we would treat each other much more gently, with more love, patience, tolerance and care."
> 
> Also a little side note, I'm making a lot more time pass in this story because it's the one major fault I find in the show's story telling, people travel WAY TOO FAST! New Vegas is in the Plains Nation, thousands of miles from Willoughby, Texas... it would take them a freakin' long time to travel that far. I know I'm being picky... but come on guys...

_"Charlotte? You're bleeding."_

_Charlie turned to glance down the back of her arm at the long, thin red line, that was slowly oozing. Blood had dripped from her triceps, all the way down to her fingers, which where still gripping the sword that she had just killed three men with. Well, three among thirteen that had tried to kill them and take their wagon and horses._  
_That was their mistake._  
_Then again, if the thieves had known who it was they had attempted to rob, they might have had second thoughts._

 

 

 

After traveling for a week without any trouble, and without trying to kill each other, Monroe and Charlie had come across a collapsed bridge over a deep river. Pulling on the reins, and with a gentle "Whoa", Monroe stopped the makeshift wagon. Charlie jumped down from the bench and walked to the river's edge. Staring down, she could see remnants of the old wooden bridge, shattered and thrown about in the water.

"Well... this was a waste of time." Monroe sighed lazily, jumping down from the wagon and walking over to join her.

Charlie just shook her head. "I don't get it, when I came this way, the bridge was stable. It was fine. How could this have happened? Some freak accident?"

Monroe knelt down, getting a better look. "Who says this was an accident?" he whispered softly.

"What are you saying?"

Monroe stood and turned to look at her, shrugging. "Just a thought."

His icy blue gaze unnerved Charlie, and yet, strangely fascinated her at the same time.  
There was always a hidden message in the eyes of Sebastian Monroe, his stare a cold and calculating one; she could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

She was starting to become familiar with these looks, learning to read the subtle hints he would give. What she read in his eyes right now, was something she didn't like.  
Suspicion and frustration, mixed with _was that contempt?_ , as if he were annoyed and even amused that she didn't see this as some kind of a set up, a trap.

He walked back to the wagon, climbing up to the bench. Charlie stared down at the ruined bridge for a moment longer, then turned and grudgingly followed Monroe.

Heading back down the road another half-mile, they came to a turnoff, which would take them deeper into the woods. Reluctantly, Monroe lead the horses on.

The further they continued into the woods, the more tense Monroe became. His hands tightened on the reins, his shoulders curved, his eyes constantly shifting, watching, taking in any and every movement, his ears taking in every sound. His growing discomfort made Charlie uneasy.

Sebastian Monroe was a suspicious person by nature, but he wasn't the type to get anxious unless he had a good reason.

He had a frighteningly heightened sense of awareness, maybe even more so than Miles, and he was strikingly cunning and ruthless; so to see him on edge, Charlie made sure to have her crossbow ready, her fingers tightening on the trigger, notching a bow. She also noticed Monroe slowly bending down to pick up the shotgun he kept under the bench, and placing it across his knees. With a slap of the reins and clicking his tongue, he pushed the horses to go a little faster.

Charlie turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised.

Monroe gave her a quick glance. "The sooner we get out of here, the better."

They rode on in silence for a few more minuets, both of them tensed and ready, like wolves waiting to pounce on their prey. But as it turns out, they were the intended victims.

The single snap of a twig, and suddenly there were men everywhere, coming from all sides of the road. Rough, dirty men, with greedy eyes and hungry for blood, moving in so fast that Charlie didn't have time to count how many there were.

In one swift motion, Monroe cocked the shotgun and fired, killing one scrawny bandit, barely missing one of the horses' shoulders. Charlie stood and released an arrow into the nearest man, shooting him right between the eyes. As she notched another arrow, Monroe had already shot two more men. Charlie readied herself to release another arrow, but a huge hand shot out and ripped the crossbow clean out of her hands, breaking it in half. She turned to see a large man, at least six foot five, sneer as he threw what was left of her crossbow to the ground, brandishing a blunt sword.

Her breath quickened and she turned to grab another weapon, when she heard Monroe shout, "Charlie! Heads up!" tossing her a sword.

She grabbed it, jumped down from the bench, and stood back in a defensive stance, waiting for the bandit to make a move. He lunged, and she quickly spun around and brought the sword down across his ribs, slicing his side open. Yelling in agony, he fell to the ground, only to be replaced by two more men, coming in swinging at her. Charlie darted to the left, and felt a sharp pain in her upper right arm, but not before she struck one of them in the stomach. He dropped to his knees, his mouth open in a silent scream, and the other brought his sword down on Charlie. She parried the blow, and fought him off with a quick thrust to the shoulder.

They continued to fight, taking turns blocking and attacking.

This guy was much faster than the other two, who were both now lying still as stones. Charlie was beginning to have a hard time keeping up with him.  
Somewhere in her mind, she could hear Miles groaning, _'C'mon Charlie, is that the best you got? After everything I taught you? This guy is all over you, make a move already.'_

Yelling in frustration, she used all of her strength, and finding a weak spot, caught his hand, twirling his sword free, and with a quick singular motion, sliced his neck open. Warm blood splattered on her neck and face. As he fell to the ground, she looked up, breathing heavily, and took in the violent scene around her.

All the would-be thieves were dead, lying on the ground, seemingly flung about like rag dolls.

As much as she hated to admit it, there was something darkly impressive about the fact that it was so easy for Monroe to overpower so many men at once.

There were nine bodies sprawled around him, and he just stood there as if it were nothing, bending down to the nearest body, wiping his sword on the dead guy's shirt.

He looked up, and gave her a curt nod of approval. "Not bad, kid. Just don't let someone get the slip on you like that again."

Charlie sighed and rolled her eyes, but unfortunately, she knew he was right. She had gotten lucky this time.

"Charlotte?"

She turned to look at him.

"You're bleeding."

She glanced down the back of her arm. There was a long, thin red line that was slowly oozing. Blood had dripped from her triceps all the way down to her fingers.

She shrugged, "I'll be fine. It's just a scratch."

"Still, we should take care of that." Monroe bent down and picked up what few weapons that could be useful from the strewn about bodies, and walked over to Charlie.

Tossing the knives and swords down on the ground, he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Hear, let me see."

She tried to push him away, "I said I'll be fine. Really, it's not that bad."

Monroe's grip tightened on her shoulder, but his voice was tired. "Just... let me look." He turned her around and grabbed her arm, raising it up to his face.

Charlie watched him as he studied her wound, silently wondering why he was acting like he cared about her well-being. Even if he had saved her life twice before, she couldn't shake the feeling that he had hidden motives. He was a liar. And she just didn't trust him. Why should she?

However, she knew he needed her to take him to Miles, so he was probably trying his best to stay in her good graces.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he let go and sauntered towards the wagon, opening the back door.

Charlie was cleaning off her sword, when Monroe reappeared with what looked like a small first-aid kit.

"Sit down." He motioned with his head to a log a few feet away.

Charlie just looked at him, placing her hands on her hips.

Now it was Monroe's turn to roll his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh, "Charlotte, just come here."

 She hesitated a bit longer, then shook her head, walked over and sat down next to him.

Grabbing a pale plastic bottle out of the box, Monroe turned to look at her.

"I'm gonna put some alcohol on it, so it'll sting a bit."

Charlie simply nodded. She held out her arm, her left hand gripping the wood tightly, bracing herself.

Monroe unscrewed the lid, and grabbing hold of her elbow with a surprising gentleness, started to pour the transparent liquid on the cut.

Charlie unwillingly flinched, sucking in a curse and holding her breath, her fingers digging into the log. She shot him a dirty look, but Monroe simply ignored her, remaining silent, completely focused on cleaning the wound. He reached for a cloth and started gently wiping the blood and alcohol off of her skin.

The bleeding had stopped for the most part, but the wound was still pretty tender. Charlie was biting the inside of her cheek, stubbornly refusing to let herself seem weak in front of him.

She knew it was silly, but she figured everyone has their own issues with pride; Monroe was a good example of that.

As he started wrapping a bandage around her arm, she looked over at the thirteen dead men lying on the ground.

"So, what should we do with them?"

Monroe followed her gaze. "Well, we don't have a shovel to bury them, or the time, so we're just gonna have to move them to the side of the road and leave 'em."

Charlie was silent for a moment.

Monroe turned to look at her. "Hey, they attacked us, not the other way around. They tried to kill us and steal from us. We don't owe these scumbags anything. They got what they deserved."

The way he said that so definitely made Charlie's eyes darken. _'Well, not everyone gets what they deserve...'_

But then, her face softened, and she suddenly realized how tired she was. Not just from the fight, but from the journey and from all the pent-up emotions she'd been hiding for months, not to mention the hate she still held for Monroe.

It's funny how simple emotions can make you feel as tired as if you were carrying a few hundred pounds.

Pushing it aside, Charlie decided to focus on the task at hand.

"There, that's done."

Monroe paused a moment, inspecting his handiwork, and with a fleeting look of satisfaction, gathered up the medical supplies and walked back to the wagon.

Charlie looked down at the bandage. It was almost expertly done. The care Monroe had put into cleaning the wound and firmly securing the bandage was unexpected to say the least.

"Come on. We gotta move these guys before anyone sees this. We've been lucky so far."

Monroe picked up the feet of the nearest guy and started pulling him to the edge of the road.

Again, Charlie sighed. A year ago, she would've been horrified at not only killing a man, let alone four, but then helping to hide the bodies?... and all the while, doing this alongside Sebastian Monroe? The man who was responsible for the deaths of her father and Danny? The man who was responsible for so much that had happened to her and her family, not to mention the atrocities he committed towards his own troops and hundreds of innocent civilians.

But she wasn't that girl anymore. She was a mere shadow of her former self. That girl had all but disappeared, and yet Charlie could barely recognize herself now.

She had changed. She had stolen from people, whether they deserved it or not. She had killed people. She was a thief. She was a soldier. She was a killer.

She wasn't a child anymore.

And now lately, even though she would never admit it out loud, all this time she and Monroe were spending together, it was beginning to have an affect on how she saw him. There was something different about him now, she just wasn't quite sure what exactly that was, and part of her didn't want to. Part of her wanted to continue hating him, it had been an anchor for her when everything else had fallen apart and faded away. It was the one thing she had been sure of. But that very same hatred and anger was slowly making her feel dead inside, devoid of all other emotion and completely disconnected from other people; much like how she figured Monroe felt.

Time changes things, and it had most certainly changed her; for the better or for worse, she wasn't quite sure.

 


	2. A New Alliance?

Several days later, Charlie and Monroe found themselves coming up on a little cluster of houses, they counted about a dozen of them. It looked like an unfinished subdivision, much like the one Charlie had grown up in.

Seeing the neat little row of houses, all circled round together, enveloped in trees and tall grass, the familiarity of it all; Charlie suddenly had flashbacks to her earlier childhood in Wisconsin; going to school with Aaron, helping Maggie make dinner, wandering around the woods with Danny, playing with the other kids down the street. Laughing with her dad...

_The old, ruined fairgrounds with the rusted, creaking ferris wheel. Her tin box full of postcards from all over the world. London, Los Angeles, Tokyo, New York, Paris, Austin, Milan, Chicago... Places she had dreamed of seeing. Adventures she had dreamed of having, Danny by her side, free and independent, with no one telling them what to do._

God, it all seemed so pathetic and stupid now. 

She had been so innocent, so naive back then. Back before her Dad and Danny were killed, before she found Miles, before Maggie and Nora's deaths, before she found out that her mother was still alive after all those years, before any of this _... it felt like centuries ago..._

Monroe gently pulled on the reins, stopping the horses. The sudden change in pace snapped Charlie's mind back to the present. 

She looked at him, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What it is?"

Monroe kept his eyes fixed on the houses. "I don't wanna just barge into town without knowing who lives here. There could be more bounty hunters nearby."

He turned, scanning the surrounding area for a good place to keep the wagon and horses out of sight. 

"There." 

It took Charlie a minute to find what he was trying to show her.

He was pointing to a small opening in the trees, almost unnoticeable from the road.  

Monroe urged the horses on, turning away from the trail, into the woods.

Coming up on the clearing, she could see a tiny old, rundown shack. It clearly hadn't been used in years, maybe even since before the Blackout. Vegetation had all but covered most of the structure, and it was surrounded by tall grass on all sides, which is what made it so difficult to see from the road.

Without a word, Monroe stopped the wagon, jumped down, and started unhitching the horses. Charlie jumped down to join him. 

They worked in silence for a while. It wasn't really an awkward silence, they just, didn't feel the need to talk. The way they moved around each other, the way they worked together, they had started to form a type of rhythm. At first it was more like a delicate dance of an alliance between them. Like two feral cats circling each other, trying to figure out whether or not the other would pose a threat. But as time passed, they started to gain an understanding of one another. A sort of peaceful acceptance.      

It was growing surprisingly comfortable.

Not that Charlie would ever admit it. 

Their relationship hadn't exactly come to a point where either of them felt like opening up to the other, not just yet anyway. And when they did speak to each other, it often consisted of a barbed jab or a sarcastic comment. It was a duel with words, since they had finally come to some kind of a truce when it came to physical violence. Or rather, Monroe had convinced her that she and her family needed him badly enough that he was more valuable to them alive, even if he was the last person they wanted to see.

Or maybe Charlie just simply knew it was true. They needed him. Like it or not, they needed him.

The hatred and the burning desire to kill Monroe had mostly gone, replaced with a simple annoyance with the realization that unless Miles or Rachel killed him when they got back to Willoughby, Monroe was going to become a part of Charlie's daily life. He already was. 

"We'll go into town on foot, scope it out, buy any supplies we need, then come back out here tonight."

Charlie simply nodded in agreement. 

Turning to check the supplies, Monroe looked over at her. "How many diamonds did we get off of those guys?"

Charlie grabbed the leather pouch under the seat and opened it up to count them.

"Forty-seven."

Monroe finished checking their food and supplies, then grabbed a hand gun, checked to make sure it was loaded, and stuck it in his belt. 

He grabbed a second gun, checked that one as well, then tossed it to Charlie. 

"You ready to go Charlotte?"

 

 

_"You ready to go Charlotte?"_

_Something in Charlie's vision flashed. Something bright._   _A red hat... a baseball cap..._

 _Somewhere in the back of her mind, deep in her early memories, there was something almost familiar..._   _the voices sounded the same_.... _she knew that voice..._

 

 

"Charlotte?"

Charlie's head snapped up, she hadn't realized that she had been staring.

"You alright?"

The confused look on Monroe's face was understandable, but it was the way his eyes were slightly squinted, his mouth a thin line, that showed a level of genuine concern that surprised Charlie. It was something she had never really seen from him before. 

Pushing the thought away, she tucked the gun in the back of her pants. "Yeah, I'm fine. Ready when you are."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so much shorter, but there will be more coming soon. And I promise that there will be more dialogue between Charlie and Monroe, this was just a small bit to show how their relationship has already started to change.


	3. Why He Calls Her Charlotte...

"Here."

With one hand, Charlie caught the apple that Monroe had thrown at her. It was huge and bright red. Biting into it, Charlie could barely manage to hold back a sigh.  _God, these taste good._

They had purchased all of the supplies they needed in town, and had quickly made their way back to the wagon. The apples had come from some stranded trees along the road. A pleasant surprise since apple trees didn't usually grow too well in the area, so they took advantage of their good luck and picked as many as they could carry.

It's funny how something as simple as a piece of fruit, something so common and overlooked before the Blackout, was now as special a treat as one could get these days. 

They had made their stop in town as quickly as they could, buying the supplies they needed without asking any questions or taking up any more time than necessary. From the very beginning of the trip, they had been trying to avoid towns and cities as much as possible, the last thing they needed was another run in with some bounty hunters, or worse. So far, the hadn't had much trouble... unless you include the thirteen rather unpleasant characters they had encountered over six days ago.

It didn't seem like there had been anyone to worry about in the little town, the residents appeared to mostly consist of a few families and some old farmers, but they didn't feel like taking the chance to find out. People talk, and even in a little town like this one, news can travel fast, and they were almost to the Texas border.

Monroe had decided to keep the alias he used in New Vegas; Jimmy King. Not that anyone ever really asked him what his name was. Charlie just went by Charlotte. It seemed that that was all Monroe would ever be willing to call her, and it was annoying. 

_What had started all of that anyway?_

It was what he had called her when she first met him, in the capitol. 

 _"Hello Charlotte."_   He had said it with such familiarity in his voice, even when he continued,  _"It's nice to finally meet you."_

There had been an air of possessiveness about him when he had greeted her by her full name, it was something that intrigued her. 

Then again, there were a lot of things about Sebastian Monroe that left Charlie intrigued. And confused.

_"You ready to go Charlotte?"_

There it was again.  _The flash of red, the voice..._ and there was something else now...  _laughter. HER laughter..._

It was a memory, a memory hidden in her subconscious, buried so deep in the back of her mind that it was practically hurting her head to try to recover or remember it. Every time she thought she might have gotten a hold of it, when an image started to make itself clear, just as quickly the vision slipped away, leaving her frustrated and even more perplexed and curious than before.

 

"Charlotte?"

Charlie blinked, turning her gaze to Monroe, who was sitting a few feet away, a half eaten apple in his hand. He was staring at her, his electric blue eyes practically burning holes through her. Holding her there with his intense gaze, it was like he was peeling back her layers; her anger, her frustration, her stubbornness, her pride, her determination, her weariness, and looking straight into her soul. His eyes were questioning, and yet it felt like he was reading her as if she were an open book.

"Are you okay? You've seemed a bit off ever since we got here."

She shifted her feet. "What do you mean?"

Monroe broke her gaze for a brief moment, looking at the apple in his hand and taking another bite before turning back to her.

"You just, don't seem like you're fully here, mentally. It's like your mind is off somewhere else." He gingerly waved his free hand, as if to accentuate his point.

Charlie remained silent for a moment, not really sure what to say to that. Her mind _had_  been wandering.

"Is there something wrong that you're not telling me?"

Charlie's brows furrowed. "It's nothing, and where is this concern coming from? Why would you care?"

Monroe's jaw muscles twitched, his eyes lowered, seemingly becoming lost in his own thoughts. 

Tossing the apple core away, he ran his hands through his messy, curly hair, something he often did when he was tired or frustrated. 

He sighed, and looked over at Charlie, his expression weary. 

"I'm not a monster you know. Believe it or not, I once had friends and... family that I'd worry about. Including you." 

Charlie couldn't help but notice how Monroe had practically choked on the word 'family', and it made her wonder what it was that made talking about family so hard for him. What had happened to his family? Where were they? At this point she doubted they were even still alive. Had he lost as many friends as she had? Thinking about these things, she begin to realize just how little she really knew about this man.

_"You don't know me, Charlotte."_ he'd told her at the pool, when they were tied up, taken prisoner by those two bounty hunters. She didn't like admitting it, but he was right. The only one who really knew him was Miles, and he wasn't usually one to open up about Monroe.

 

But then suddenly, something stopped her. She turned to face Monroe.

"Wait, what do you mean,  _including you_?"

He bit his lip, then sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He shook his head slightly. 

"Nah, forget it, it's nothing. You probably wouldn't believe me anyway." The last bit he said so softly, Charlie could barely heard it. 

"No. Tell me. What did you mean?" 

"Look Charlotte," Monroe stood, brushing off his pants, and turned to head towards the wagon to get his bedroll, "it's late, we should try to get some sleep."

Charlie stood, her frustration growing. She was getting impatient now, she didn't like being ignored, and she didn't like it when people kept things from her, whether it was out of concern for her or out of deception. Her mom was a perfect example of that, even Miles had his own issues with hiding things from her, that was part of the reason she had left Willoughby in the first place. She wanted people to stop treating her like a child, like something that was too fragile to handle the truth. Hadn't everything she'd gone through in the past year proved anything at all? She had changed, there were a lot of things she could handle now that she couldn't before.

In three quick strides, Charlie reached Monroe and grabbed his arm.

"No!" She stopped him with the sheer forcefulness in her tone. Pushing herself in front of him, blocking his path, she continued.

"You're gonna tell me what you meant. I wanna know. I'm so sick and tired of everyone keeping things from me. Just tell me!"

Monroe put a hand up, keeping it hovering just a few inches from her shoulder. 

"Charlotte..." he began.

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!" She was yelling now. All the pent up emotions that she had kept hidden inside her were coming out in full force; the anger, the exhaustion, the confusion, the hopelessness, and she was taking it all out on Monroe. Well tough luck. 

"Why do you always call me that? No one  _ever_ calls me that, except for  _you_.  _Why_ ?"

Her throat was tightening, and she could feel her eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears. But somehow, she held them back. She  _refused_ to let Monroe see her cry. _What was wrong with her? Why was she acting like this?_

But before she could even move or say another word, in one swift motion, Monroe wrapped an arm around her shoulders and clapped his other hand over her mouth.

"Shh!" he hissed, his face mere inches from hers, so close that she could feel his breath on her skin. "Okay, _okay!_   _Jesus_ , Charlie, alright. But you can't yell like that, got it?"

She nodded against his hand, she hadn't even really realized just how loud she was being. Her face flushed with embarrassment.  _How could she be so thoughtless?_

Monroe slowly removed his hand from her mouth, and gingerly released her shoulders, but he didn't back away. He stayed right beside her. Neither of them moved for what felt like an eternity, staring into each others eyes, just inches apart. Charlie was practically holding her breath, waiting to see if Monroe would say something, anything, even if just to break the silence. His guarded expression made her doubtful, but then it softened, his eyes searching hers, but for what, she couldn't tell. 

"Okay." he sighed, backing up to sit against the wagon, running a hand over his face. He suddenly looked a lot older, tired and worn down.

"Goddammit, you're even more stubborn than Miles, you know that? I mean, if there's one thing you and your mom have in common..." 

Crossing her arms, Charlie snorted. "Yeah, I've been told that."

Monroe was quiet for a while, staring at the ground, for so long in fact that Charlie was beginning to wonder if she needed to punch him to bring him back to reality. 

But then he broke the silence.

"Remember when we first met? In the capitol?" 

The look on his face was surprisingly sheepish. As if this was one particular memory he  _didn't_ want to bring up; which, judging by his recent actions, was most likely true.

Charlie nodded. "How could I forget?" she responded with just a hint of sarcasm. 

Monroe simply rolled his eyes and continued. 

"You remember me saying that it was nice to 'finally meet you'? Well, in a way, I was lying."

Charlie couldn't help but smirk. "Lying about the fact that it was _'nice'_   to meet me?"

That got a tiny chuckle out of Monroe, but he shook his head.

"No. What I lied about was that it was the first time that I had met you. Though, for you it was probably accurate."

Charlie's eye widened, her brows knit in confusion. "What? You mean..."

Monroe simply nodded. "I knew you when you were little."

They were both silent for a moment, allowing the information to really sink in. Then Monroe broke the silence again.

"I knew you wouldn't remember. You were so young, and it... it was so long ago... but yeah, I knew you. I first met you when you were about three years old."

Charlie slowly made her way to the wagon, leaning against it beside him.

"Miles was going to go visit your family for Christmas, and he wanted me to come along." His tone darkened for a moment, his voice growing thick with emotion. "I didn't want to go, but Miles didn't want me left alone. He didn't really leave me a choice. It wasn't... it just wasn't a good time for me. My head wasn't in a good place." 

When he turned to her, the look in his eyes caught Charlie off guard.  _Heartbreak._ Pure and raw heartbreak. A far off look of longing, something that Charlie only saw in the eyes of those who had lost people they loved. Miles, her mom, Grandpa Gene... herself. It made her wonder who it was that Monroe had lost. Maybe it's part of the the reason he turned out the way he did. Why he just, lost it. Grief and guilt can destroy a person _._ She knew that well enough _._

Monroe looked down at the ground, trying to collect himself. He cleared his throat. 

"It was two days before Christmas Eve. The entire car ride up there, we just kept quiet. For once, Miles and I couldn't find the right words to say. I guess, there weren't any. When we did finally get to your house, we pulled up, and there in the driveway, was this little girl. Jumping up and down, waving her arms, yelling "Uncle Miles! Uncles Miles is here!" God, you were so loud, we could hear you over the engine, through the car windows with the heater blowing." Monroe chuckled softly.

"When he got out of the car, it was like Miles had been hit by an NFL linebacker. You ran at him so fast, he didn't have time to react. You knocked him down on the ground, hugging him like you wouldn't ever let go. He was laughing, hugging you back, while trying to get up. I just watched, though I couldn't help but laugh a little. You were so excited to see him. You were just this tiny, little purple bundle of joy."

Charlie tilted her head, confused.

A small smile tugged at Monroe's lips.

"You were wearing this puffy, purple winter coat, and you had a purple hat and these little purple mittens. I swear, I'd never seen anybody wearing so much purple before.

After Miles was able to get back up, he picked you up in his arms and turned to me. "Charlie", he said, "There's someone I'd like you to meet. This is Uncle Bass. He's a good friend of mine. We've known each other since we were about your age."

You smiled at me, and... I remember you had dimples back then... when you smiled. I smiled back at you. "Hello Charlotte. It's nice to finally meet you."

And, even though you were smiling at me, you looked confused and asked Miles, "You mean Bass, like the  _fish?_ " We both laughed at that, and Miles told you that it was just a nickname, like Charlie was a nickname for Charlotte. I explained, "My full name is Sebastian." You perked up, all excited. "Like the crab from The Little Mermaid?!" 

Monroe broke the story to laugh, the first real laugh that Charlie had ever heard from him since that time in the pool. It made him seem more human, more real, like someone she could get to know, someone she could understand. She smiled, wishing she knew what 'the little mermaid' was and why it was so funny.

"Anyway," Monroe kept going, " Miles and I couldn't stop laughing. I remember because it was the first time I had laughed in almost a month... I hadn't even known if I  _could_ laugh anymore, but it just came so easily with you and Miles. 

You insisted on calling me by my full name, Sebastian, even though no one _ever_ called me that. You liked that name better. So, I said that if you called me by my full name, it was only fair if I called you by your full name. You agreed. But  _only_ I could call you Charlotte, everyone else had to continue calling you Charlie. So we shook on it."

He turned his gaze to Charlie, looking a lot younger than he had just a few moments before. Charlie couldn't help but grin at him. 

"So, now you know. That's why I always call you Charlotte. We made a deal. I was just keeping my end."

"But I don't call you Sebastian."

Monroe shook his head. "No, and quite frankly, I prefer it that way. And like I said, I knew you wouldn't remember. But I did..."

 

 

"Did I see you again? Before the Blackout?"

Monroe, who had volunteered to take first watch, tore his gaze away from the woods. He looked at Charlie, lying on her bedroll a few feet away. She was staring up at the night sky, the moon shining brightly, the stars covering the dark canopy overhead.

He waited a moment before responding. 

"Yes, I saw you a handful of times. Why?"

She shrugged. "Just wondered..."

Shifting to the side, she looked over at him. She kept biting her lip, looking like she was wanting to say something...

"What?" 

Charlie breathed out, "Did you ever wear a red hat? Like a baseball cap or something?"

Now she had his attention. His head inclined towards her. 

"Yeah... it was an old hat that my dad had given me. But, how did you know that?"

"I... I think I remember it."

"The hat?"

Charlie shrugged a shoulder. "Well, sort of. I remembered something this morning, at least I think I did.

Someone put a red hat on my head... it was way too big, and it made me laugh. There were lots of people laughing... and then there's this voice asking me if I'm 'ready to go', but I have no idea where they're taking me..."

Monroe was leaning forward now, his face a mixed expression of hope and eagerness. 

"And, there's something else." Charlie looked him dead in the eye. "The voice calls me 'Charlotte'. And the more I think about it, the harder I try to remember, the more and more that voice starts to sound like yours."

Monroe looked so surprised, and was silent for so long that Charlie was almost worried for a moment.

"Do you know what I'm talking about? Do  _you_ remember it?"

Exhaling a shocked laugh, Monroe nodded. "Yeah, I remember that like it was yesterday."

Charlie sat up, curiosity getting the better of her.

"Miles and I had gone up to visit your family for a couple of days before we were gonna be sent out to Iraq for another nine months. Miles, you and I were gonna go spend the day watching a Chicago White Sox game. You were so excited you could barely sit still."

"The hat, it had a fish on it, didn't it?" Charlie interrupted. 

Monroe nodded, smiling. "Yeah... a Bass."

Grinning, Charlie nodded for him to continue. 

"Well, you wouldn't sit still enough for your mom to put sunscreen on your face, so I gave you my hat. And yes, it was way too big, but it looked cute on you like that. Miles and I were laughing at you, and you were laughing at all the attention you were getting. That's when I asked you if you were ready to go..."

Charlie's eyes lit up, "... and I said, "Ready when you are Uncle Sebastian!"... I... I remember that." She laughed. "I remember that."

Looking up and seeing Monroe smiling at her the way he was, something flashed in her vision, and at last, the images in her mind became clear. 

_There he was, kneeling in front of her, arms stretched out, ready to embrace her. He looked so young, maybe a few years older than Charlie was now... and while there was a sadness behind his eyes, there was a lightness in his features and a youthfulness that she had never seen before. He looked so different, and yet somehow the same, but there he was; laughing, smiling at her, and there was so much joy in his smile. Joy at seeing her._

Looking up at him now, the changes in him were so much harsher than she could have imagined. What had happened to him to make him this way? What had changed him so drastically? Even when she was little, there was a fragile sadness, a longing in his eyes that was always there, but now, the true extent of what life had done to him was starting to become more and more visible. He still had a lot of fight left in him. He'd always had a fiery, rebellious nature. But now there was an almost animalistic need to survive, to come out on top, no matter the cost. Like he had nothing left to lose. But even that had started to change. She had begun to realize that the simplest way to start to understand him, was to read his eyes. Around everyone else, Monroe kept his guard up, but around Charlie, some of those walls had slowly started to come down. Everything she needed to know, she could see in his eyes. They were endless pools of emotion, when they weren't completely clouded over by anger or violence. It was suddenly strange now, the way she felt about Monroe. There was still an unresolved anger towards him that tore at her heart, but then there were moments like this, moments were she saw a completely different side of him that she never would've thought had existed. Ever since she found him in New Vegas, ever since they had started on this journey together, he had started to change. Or was it Charlie that was changing? Maybe it was both.

 _Had she forgiven him? Did she trust him? Could she accept him?_ She honestly hadn't forgiven him yet, and part of her doubted she ever could. As for trusting him, that was an unsure thing. But she realized, she  _had_ accepted him. Not entirely, but he was slowly growing on her. And she liked this memory of him, this glimpse into the past,  _their_ past. 

"I... remember you _._ I  _remember_ you." Charlie's voice was tight, almost shaky. 

But Monroe simply smiled. One of the most genuine smiles she'd ever seen from him.

Turning back to the woods, he sighed deeply. "Try to get some sleep, Charlie."

_Charlie._

There it was. Her nickname. She had told him to stop calling her Charlotte, so this time, he did. 

But it was different now. And somehow, she wasn't sure that she liked it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to explore the idea of why Bass always insisted on calling Charlie by her full name, Charlotte; until they get to Willoughby, where he then begins to call her Charlie, like everyone else. I've always loved the idea that these two actually met before the Blackout, that Bass knew Charlie when she was little. So, this is my own interpretation with some inspiration from other writers. If it sounds too much like another's work, it was unintentional, so please let me know and I'll see what I can do.  
> Hope ya'll like it!


	4. Taking a Much Needed Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads-up; apologies, as this is another short chapter, but I'll try to write more soon.

Two days later, Charlie and Monroe had reached the Texas border. 

It was fairly easy crossing, since there were no Rangers or soldiers in the area. The nearest town was over twelve miles away, leaving them with plenty of room to travel through unseen and unnoticed. 

Charlie smirked. "Well, we made it to Texas alive."  

"Let's just hope we can stay that way." Monroe drawled, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. 

He shuffled on the bench beside her, re-positioning himself to try to get comfortable. "We've still got a long ways to go." he sighed, a little annoyed. "You never really think about just how big Texas is, until you have to travel through it. Even when we had cars, it could take forever."

Leaning back, Charlie stretched her legs out, her muscles sore from sitting for so long. She had to admit, part of her would be glad when they finally made it back to Willoughby, she was getting tired of spending every day sitting on a hard, wooden bench on top of a creaky, bumpy wagon from dawn till dusk. It made her cranky, and it was beginning to have the same affect on Monroe.

Ever since their little talk a couple nights before, a slight awkwardness had settled between them, as if they were unsure how to treat each other.

For Charlie, it was difficult. Her recently recovered memory of him, or at least the version of him she had known as a kid, was so conflicting with the Monroe that she had gotten to know over the past year. Hell, even now that he was no longer the General of the Militia and the Leader of the Republic, there were different sides of him that she began to see every day. In her entire life, Charlie didn't think she'd ever met anyone so contrasted or so infuriatingly complicated. She hadn't even thought it was possible for one man to be so self-contradicting, it was like there were multiple diverse personalities inside him, all fighting for dominance and he could never really decide which one was in control.

She had often thought that Miles was the same way, but even he had never gone to the psychological and emotional extremes that Monroe had. He had never gone over the edge. Miles was much more grounded, there was a mental stability that he was able to hold onto. Sure, he had a dark and complicated past, but he was still nothing like Monroe. With Monroe, you were never really sure what you were getting.

Even after everything they'd already been through on this trip, Charlie was still finding it hard to trust the man sitting next to her. Sure, he'd saved her life. Twice. But what had been the real reason? Had it been out of guilt? Keeping a promise to her mother? Or was there something else going on in his mind... 

With Monroe, Charlie was never quite sure what his true intentions were. She often felt like she was just guessing. It was the main reason she couldn't really trust him, at least, not yet. 

She trusted him enough to know that he'd have her back in a fight. She trusted him enough to keep his hands to himself, to not take advantage of her, and she trusted him enough to get her safely back to her family, even if it was all to avoid the wrath of Miles if anything should happen to her. But as far as trusting him completely, the way she trusted her uncle... that would probably never happen. Too much bad blood had come between them. But then again, every time she thought of that old memory of him, holding out his arms, laughing with her, jokingly placing his old raggedy hat on her head, she wondered if maybe,  _just maybe,_ there was still a little piece of that part of him, buried deep somewhere inside him that was desperately trying to get out. Would she ever be able to trust that side of him the way she once had?

 

"So where are you right now?"

Charlie's head snapped up, Monroe's voice shaking her out of her thoughts. Giving him an annoyed look out of the corner of her eye, she snorted. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, where are you? Where are your thoughts taking you?"

"What's it to you?"

Monroe shrugged curtly. "Just curious."

Charlie rolled her eyes as Monroe started fidgeting again. Apparently, he was as uncomfortable and restless as she was.

"Do you need me to find you a pillow?" Charlie asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She knew she was being annoying, but she was tired and bored and the hours-long awkward silence between them, interrupted by only short, blunt responses from each other was starting to drive her crazy. This kind of hotheaded restlessness was what usually got her into trouble, but she didn't care. She wanted to rile him up a bit, break some of the tension that had formed over the past couple of days.

And it seemed to be working, as Monroe started chewing on his bottom lip, his hands tightening ever so slightly on the reins. 

"Look, I'm just bored out of my mind, alright?" he said, defensively. "No need to get on my case."

"What, you don't think I'm bored? I'm so sick and tired of sitting all day. I  _hate_ this bench and I  _hate_ this wagon."

"It's more of a truck..."

"Whatever it is, I hate it!"

Monroe looked exasperated. "Okay, now you're just acting like a child."

Now he was trying to rile _her_ up. _Well, bring it on._  

"We haven't stopped to get a decent meal in over a week, we haven't had the chance to bathe or get fresh clothes..."

"Charlie, we've been avoiding bounty hunters..." Monroe explained, cutting her off.

"So what?! We're human, we at least need to get ourselves cleaned up." She crossed her arms, her Matheson stubbornness taking over. "We've used up the last of the soap days ago, and you're starting to smell like a corpse."

Monroe turned, his eyes bright with childish indignation. "Well, excuse me for not being worthy of your presence." he mocked. "And you don't exactly smell like a batch of fresh flowers yourself, your Majesty."

"So, we're in agreement then? Even if just for one night, we need to stop somewhere."

Monroe sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. 

Bringing her voice down to a more gentle tone, Charlie pointed out, "The horses could use a good rest. They need it."  _Hopefully that'll do it._

He was quiet for a moment longer, then with another tired sigh, he said, "Alright, alright. Fine."

Charlie couldn't help but let a smirk escape her lips.  _Charlie 1, Monroe... 0._

"There's a town about eight miles ahead. Right now it's only around one-thirty, but we'll stop there for the night."

"Sounds good." Charlie nodded. "Was that so hard?"

Monroe gave her an irritated look, but as he turned away, Charlie caught just the slightest hint of a smile at the corners of his lips. 

 

 

A few hours later, they had made their way to the small town. It was about the same size as Willoughby, if maybe a bit bigger. 

There were lots of people though, at least twice as many as in Willoughby, crowding around the streets, their horses and wagons forming a type of makeshift highway through the town. It was better this way, it would be easier for them to blend in with the crowd and hopefully remain relatively unnoticed. 

The further south they went, the less likely it would be that anyone would recognize Monroe. Not that many people knew what he looked like to begin with.

After talking to an old tradesman with wispy, white hair and kind eyes, they found a place to get their horses re-shod and taken care of.

"Tell Jod, the owner, that old Georgie sent ya, he'll see to it that your horses are looked after." he had said with an honest smile, the most sincere smile that Charlie had seen in a long time.

They then made their way to a big house that had been changed into a hotel called 'The Sepko House.'

A tiny bell rang as Monroe opened the door.

Behind a small desk, a woman turned to face them. She was quite large, her frame barely held up by the tiny chair she sat in. She had wild, curly red hair and deep green eyes. Freckles dotted her nose, and when she smiled, her teeth as white as snow, two dimples appeared on her rosy, round cheeks. Charlie instantly liked her.

"Well, howdy ya'll. I'm Mary Sepko, the owner of this hotel. What can I help ya with?"

Monroe walked forward, brandishing one of his charming grins. "We need a room for the night."

The curious look on Mary's face as she quickly glanced between the two of them, immediately told Charlie that she had misunderstood the situation.

Nodding slowly, Mary said cheekily, "Ah, I see darlin'. Well, would you two love birds like one of our master bedrooms. Each one has a full queen size bed, with, ya know, plenty of room to move around." She winked at Charlie and gave Monroe a knowing smirk.  _Oh Dear God..._

Monroe could barely hold Mary's gaze. Chuckling, he said "No, but thank you. I was thinking more of a two-bed room."

Mary almost looked disappointed, but replied, "I've got a couple open. I'll give you the nice one with the big window facing the garden in the back. It'll be thirteen diamonds."

After about two minuets of enough seductive charm and charisma to disarm any woman, Monroe was able to get the price dropped to ten diamonds, and grabbing the keys from Mary with a quick thank you, they headed upstairs.

The room was small, but nicely kept, the nicest room Charlie had been in in a really long time. The beds were against one wall, parallel with each other, each with a small shelf on the wall holding a candle. There was a small table with a wash bin, a pitcher full of water and some towels. Aside from that, the room was empty.  

"Not bad Charlie, I'll give you that."

Charlie plopped down on the bed closest to the window. The springs bounced under her weight. She closed her eyes, smiling.  _God, it felt good to be on a mattress again._

"Hey." Monroe bumped her leg with his knee. "Don't get too comfortable yet. We still have some things we need to do."

Reluctantly, Charlie sat up. "I know, I know."

"Well, lazy-pants, come on then."

Charlie squinted mischievously up at him. "Suure thang darlin'." she drawled, sarcastically over-accentuating Mary's Southern accent.  

Monroe rolled his eyes, but couldn't contain an amused smile. "Yeah, that's real cute."

"Do ya like it? Ya see darlin', here in the South..."

Monroe cut her off, grabbing the pillow from her bed and smacking it in her face hard enough to knock her backwards, but not enough for it to hurt at all.

"Come on, seriously. Cut it out. And don't call me 'darlin'."

Reaching to grab his backpack, he headed for the door. Pausing as he opened it, he turned and looked at her, waiting.

"You coming or what?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like showing that, while they've developed a mutual respect and a sense of trust between them, Charlie and Monroe still seem to enjoy pushing each other's buttons. I think it's part of the reason why so many people see them as a potential pairing... and the fact that everyone in the show seems to assume that they're a couple. And while I am not entirely against the idea, I almost see it as a sort of big brother, little sister thing; but at the same time, the looks they give each other... (no, stop it, can't go down that road just yet, come back to reality)  
> Anyway, I hope ya'll like it, and hopefully I'll be able to put down some more ideas soon. Thanks for reading!


	5. More Questions Than Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, I wanted to show the internal struggle that Charlie is going through with how she feels about Monroe.  
> She's torn between accepting him, and feeling like she's betraying the people she's lost.

The crisp, cool evening breeze coming in through the open window made Charlie's wet skin tingle.

She had just finished taking a much needed bath in the hotel bathhouse. The warm, soapy water had felt wonderful as she scrubbed herself clean. Her long curly hair dangling around her face, dripping water droplets on the ground and onto her bare feet. Grabbing a towel, she dried off, then wrapped it around herself, securing it with a small knot. 

It had been nearly a week since she had last been able to clean herself off. When traveling these days, the extra water wasn't easy to come by. Usually, any water one found while traveling, was saved for drinking. She hated it; feeling gross and dirty, and so was extremely grateful to have found this place. They had been able to buy supplies in the town market and had their weapons taken in to the local smith. And, as luck would have it, they hadn't encountered any bounty hunters or Patriots or anyone who seemed to know much about Monroe, aside from his name, let alone what he looked like. 

Fortunately, Monroe hadn't needed much convincing to stop in town for the night. He needed the rest and time to clean himself up as much as she did. Mary had sent an employee of the motel, a woman named Anna, to take their clothes to mend and clean. Charlie hoped that Anna had been able to finish the clothes by the time that she and Monroe had finished in their baths, but as she started for the door, there on the bench was an extra pair of soft, cotton pajama pants and a baggy cotton T-shirt. Charlie smiled, grateful for the generosity and thoughtfulness.

Slipping the thin clothes on, she wrapped her hair in a knot and opening the door, left the warm, thick air of the bathhouse for the fresh, slightly chilly air of the Texas night. 

The bathhouse was a large, converted shed in the back of the motel. The buildings were less than a hundred feet apart, the space filled with a small vegetable garden. Mary used it to make food for herself and her employees. Across the yard, there was a small pen full of chickens. Efficient, useful and reliable, it was a nice little self-sustaining environment that Mary had built for herself and the people who worked for her.  

Rather than quickly making her way inside, Charlie just stood there for a moment, her eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the busy lives all around her. She could hear Mary giving orders to a young boy to go get some milk from the farmer down the street. Someone was singing a tune she didn't recognize while they were washing up dishes. She could hear the chickens clucking, frogs were croaking, crickets were chirping, and there were small glass bells hanging from the corners of the house, chiming their sweet sounds as the breeze rushed by. Here, in this moment, it was easy to let her mind wander; to let herself go and forget about her troubles, even for just a moment.

Hearing the creak of a door opening behind her, Charlie turned to see Monroe coming out of the Bathhouse, pulling a shirt down over his head. 

Just before the shirt covered his tanned torso, Charlie couldn't help but steal a quick glance. Every muscle was firmly and perfectly toned, his skin taught against them, the shadows of the firelight dancing across his abs, enhancing their appearance even more. But what really caught her eye, were the scars. There weren't enough to make him look disfigured in any way, or to distract anyone from his incredibly fine physic, but one look at him, and you knew he was a well-seasoned warrior. 

"Nice PJ's." 

Charlie quickly shifted her gaze to Monroe's face. He smirked. 

"It's what they gave me." She shrugged. "And your's aren't much different."

Monroe glanced down. "No. But, as long as they give me back the clothes I came here with, I'll be fine."

After they made their way back up to their room, Charlie flopped down on to her bed, letting her exhaustion take over her. _It felt so good to be on a proper bed again._ Monroe checked their packs, for the umpteenth time and then seemingly satisfied, climbed into his bed, blew out the candle and finally allowed himself to relax enough to try and get some sleep. 

 

 

_"Shelly..."_

_Someone was crying, their voice filled with so much pain..._

_"Shelly, please... don't... don't leave me... don't go."_

_Charlie could barely hear the muffled voice, but where was it coming from? She didn't know anyone named Shelly._

_"Please..."_

Charlie's eyes shot open and she sat up, looking around the room. It had suddenly gone quiet.  _Had she been dreaming?_

But just as she leaned back onto her pillow, there it was again. 

"Shel..."

Charlie sat up again, staring at Monroe, her eyes wide.

He was restless in his sleep. His face was twitching fitfully, his fists clenching.  _Was he having a nightmare?_

"Shel... please..." His voice was slurred with sorrow and exhaustion. 

"Monroe." Charlie hissed, trying not to wake others in the house. The last thing they needed was someone barging in complaining about noise. Monroe was not the kind of person you wanted to wake suddenly, especially not if he was having a nightmare.

But obviously, he didn't hear her. He continued to moan and fidget. 

"Monroe." She tried again, annoyed as she threw off the covers, letting her legs dangle off the side of the bed. Still, nothing. But then, Monroe's head turned towards her, and in the dim moonlight, Charlie could see tears rolling down his cheeks. Something tugged at her heart, seeing him like this. He was so helpless, something Charlie  _never_ thought she would've attributed to Sebastian Monroe, but there he was, suffering from a kind of loss that Charlie could actually relate to. The loss of a loved one. Not to say that Charlie knew who Shelly was or what had happened to her, but it was obviously something tragic, or Monroe wouldn't be like this. 

She stood, tentatively walking towards him, careful not to startle him. 

"Monroe." She whispered. "Come on Monroe, wake up. You're dreaming."

He became quieter, but he hadn't woken, which was odd since he was normally one of the lightest sleepers that she had ever met.

"Monroe. Wake up."

He groaned, seemingly about to speak again, but Charlie put her hand on his shoulder.

"Bass!" She called, louder than she meant to. She almost choked with surprise. Had she really just called him _Bass?_ It was the first time she had ever called him that.

Monroe's eyes flew open and jerking back, he grabbed her wrist pulling her hand with him. She stumbled a bit, practically falling onto his bed. 

"Hey, hey, hey! Bass, it's just me. It's me." She whispered reassuringly. She tried to sound calm and firm, but her voice was shaky. The intense look in Monroe's eyes was like a caged tiger that had just been set loose.  _Breathe, just breathe, he knows you. He won't hurt you._ But how could she know that? Well, he had saved her life twice already...

As his gaze focused on her, recognition flooded his eyes, and he quickly calmed down. His face softened, his shoulders relaxed and he slowly released her wrist, which he had been gripping with an almost inhumane strength. Charlie absentmindedly rubbed it, sure that it would bruise by tomorrow. With her thumb, she could feel the rough bumps of the scar she carried there.

The brand,  _his_ brand on her arm. An 'M' wrapped in a circle.  _Monroe._ Something else that connected them, bound them together. 

She noticed him watching her.

"I'm sorry." His voice was rough and tired but surprisingly remorseful. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know." Charlie replied, her voice flat. "You alright?"

Monroe nodded, rubbing a hand over his face, seemingly brushing away all of the pain and sorrow that had flooded his features just seconds ago. 

She hesitated for a moment, but her curiosity and hotheaded stubbornness got the best of her. 

"Who's Shelly?"

Monroe wouldn't meet her gaze at first, but eventually he looked up. 

"Not now Charlie."

She was about to object, but he silenced her with a dismissive shake of his head. 

"No, Charlie. Just... leave it alone, alright?"

She sat there for a moment longer, then simply nodded, stood and climbed back into her bed, pulling the blankets up around her. 

_Everyone is entitled to their own secrets, even Ba... NO! Don't call him that. Goddammit, it's too personal, you don't see him or know him the way Miles does..._

What was going on with her? Calling him Bass? Where had that come from?

_Monroe. That's his name. Monroe._

So yes, for now, she decided she would leave it alone. 

 

 

 

The next day went by slowly. 

Charlie found it surprisingly hard to leave the small town. It was so peaceful, so far removed from the conflicts that were going on around it. Just like the sheltered life Charlie had led in Wisconsin. Who would have thought that she would want to go back to the one place she couldn't wait to get away from just eighteen months ago...

But, they needed to get back to Miles, to her mom and Gene. They needed to warn them about these Patriots, and Charlie knew it was only a matter of time before they'd be starting some kind of war.  _Great._

They had made pretty good distance by noon, covering over twenty-five miles. But the hours dragged on. 

Ever since Monroe's nightmare last night, they hadn't really spoken a word to one another, choosing silence as a safer alternative. Maybe they were simply just avoiding conversation, trying  _not_ to bring up what had happened, things that were said.

All Charlie could think about was Shelly, whoever she was, and what had happened to her. It was something she would probably never know.

And maybe, she didn't have the right to know, just as Monroe didn't have a right to know everything about her. It was part of his past, obviously a tragic part, something that she knew he wouldn't be open to discussing. 

It was another thirty minuets before they decided to stop and take a rest for lunch. 

Mary had given them a parting gift of a few slices of bread and cheese, courtesy of the local baker and dairy farmer. 

"I can't remember the last time I had cheese." Monroe chewed slowly, relishing in the rich flavor. 

Charlie shook her head. "Me neither."

Smirking, Monroe added, "Miles would be pissing himself if he knew we were eating cheese right now without him." 

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Miles?"

"Yeah. He used to be a cheese junkie, back in the day. Couldn't get enough of it." He chuckled to himself. "It was a good thing being a Marine kept him in such good shape, or he would've been a hell of a fatty." 

Charlie smiled, amused at the thought.

They were silent again for a few minuets, then Charlie spoke up. 

"What else did Miles like?"

"You mean besides booze and the occasional hot chick?"

Charlie rolled her eyes. Monroe gave her a knowing look. 

"Well..." He sighed, seemingly unsure where to start. "He liked cars, older sports cars."

"I remember the red one he had..." Charlie said, nodding.

"Yeah, that old hunk of junk."

They both chuckled at that, their own memories taking them back in time.

"He also loved eighties rock. Especially Foreigner, though he probably won't admit it." 

"What were some of their songs? The name sounds familiar," Charlie took another bite of bread. "but I'm not sure."

Monroe shook his head. "It's times like these that I really feel old..."

He brushed the breadcrumbs off his hands. "Umm... well there was 'Feels Like the First Time', 'I Want To Know What Love Is', and,  _uh,_ there was 'Juke Box Hero'.  _Jesus,_ I  _hated_ that song..."

Charlie laughed. "I remember that one! Miles would sing that song while we drove in his car. He would sing it really loudly."

"... And quite off key. Yeah, hence the reason I hated it." 

Finishing up the last of the cheese, Charlie stood and started prepping to go. 

Before they had left, Mary had been generous enough to give them another gift of sorts, a map of Texas and what was once Oklahoma. 

Monroe had it open and was trying to find their location. 

"There." He pointed to a small dot along a blue line. "That's where we are. Hamilton City. There was a sign back a ways that said it's just a few miles further south, so we're right near where the Texas border used to be."

Charlie followed the blue lines further down the map.

"There's still a long ways to Willoughby."

"I know. That's why we gotta keep moving."

"You sure are keen on getting there, even though Miles or my mom might just shoot you before they even give you a chance to speak."

Monroe was quiet, his own thoughts occupying his mind.

But, as they both climbed back onto the wagon, he turned to her. "Well, I guess that's gonna depend on you."

Charlie stiffened. "What do you mean?"

Monroe's eyes bore into hers, yet there was a slight hesitance. He said simply, "Would you let them kill me."

Charlie couldn't tell if it was a question, or a cautious statement. Was it a strange way for Monroe to tell her that he trusted her? She didn't say anything.

_Would she? Would she be willing to protect Monroe from Miles and her mom if it came to that, which it probably would._

_After everything that happened, after everything he had done to her family? After losing her dad and Danny... could she ever let that go?_

_But, he had saved her life. Twice now. He could have left her there in that bar, he could have gone off on his own and found Miles another way, he was smart enough._

_And yet, for some reason, he had come back for her. He had saved her. There had been a fire in his eyes, an animalistic fury that she had never seen before. She almost dared to wonder if he had somehow become protective of her._

_But things had begun to change between them. She now remembered the old Bass, even if only vaguely. She was beginning to see him in different ways, seeing different sides of him. And, remarkably, she felt she was, just barely, beginning to understand him. Not the part of him that had been General Monroe, but the part of him that was just, Monroe._

_Bass._

_If she could put aside her differences with him, couldn't Miles? Frankly, she wasn't sure about her mom, she wasn't sure about anything with her mom. But Miles, maybe Miles could see her side of this. He'd understand. He may not like it, but he would understand._

_Well, there's only one way to find out..._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case anyone cares, I made up some city names.  
> I also realized that the bar Charlie was attacked in was supposed to be in Texas... but oh well. That's part of the whole 'they travel too fast' thing I'm working on, so please bare with me.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fan fiction, so please be kind. However I would love to hear your thoughts and advice, so comment!  
> This is a continuing story, so there will be more chapters to come. Thank you for your time.


End file.
